


The Sutton Method

by wintercoat



Category: Quacks (TV)
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercoat/pseuds/wintercoat
Summary: Alcohol. Chloroform. Ether.





	The Sutton Method

William had made for dismal company lately. 

“Come back to mine,” said John, in a nudging tone.

William blinked wearily. “No thank you, John.” He stared in a reproachful manner at his beer, not drinking it.

“He’s having a hard time being engaged,” Robert surmised. He pulled gloatingly on his cigarette, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. “And you, John, want to compound his misery by making him your guinea pig.”

John slouched further into his seat, put out. “You’ll be surprised to learn that I’ll be doing all the piggying this evening. I only need someone there to record what happens.”

William, who had been twisting his ring over and over on his finger, returned his hands to his gloves. “Oh, alright,” he said, shaking his head. “Alright.” He stood, heavy and subdued, and John clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man, Will.”

Will listed with the blow, and Richard laughed. “Poor, craven old Willy. Life’s boot scraper.”

*

The evening air had that midsummer electricity. It smelled terrible, of course-- the Thames was at its most vile and brown in the heat.

When John let himself into the practice he was glad of the coolness lingering in its creaking oak frame. William himself seemed pleased to be out of the pub, or at least rid of Robert, and was content to shed his coat and sit with John awhile in quiet amity.

First they did a bit of coca. “An _aperitif_ ,” grinned John, holding the box under Will’s nose. John took a pinch of the dried leaves for himself and popped them in his mouth. “Don’t swallow it all, mind. Only the juices.” They chewed it up with lime, grimacing at the bitter taste.

“I’d say that this was a rainy day sort of drug,” said William thoughtfully. “Does your tongue feel cold?”

“Just wait a bit.”

An idle thirty minutes passed, both of them staring at the wall. “I still don’t feel anything." William waved his hand in front of his face. “When does it kick in?”

“A watched pot never boils, Will.” John uncrossed his arms and stretched. His arse ached. The rafters were irritating him too, swimming around busily in his peripheral vision. The more he looked at them, the more they twisted, their four sides fluted like ropes of molten sugar.

“Perhaps we’re already high.” William sounded pale and far away. “But we’re so high that we can’t tell how high we really are.”

John nodded. “An interesting theory.” The room was inching downward, inward; the walls, the rug, the benches and stools, all sliding towards mutual oblivion as sand would in an hourglass. Will did not seem to notice this, nor did he notice the liquid wood dripping on his upturned face. “Mate,” murmured John. “Has the world gone all wax for you?”

Will shook his head, his features smudged by air and motion. “No. No, it’s on fire.”

John tilted his head, wondering. Now there were ravenous flames, wild, vivid purple, springing upside-down from the ceiling plaster. “Wow, yeah,” he marvelled. “That’s beautiful.”

“Do you think we should put it out?” asked William placidly.

“Nah.”

*

The kick was short-lived. John went for a piss, then ducked into the pantry. He returned to find Will drinking week-old water from a beaker. John flashed a trio of pockmarked glass bottles at him, and then lined them up on a nearby bench.

Will set the beaker down. “What now?”

John touched the bottle tops one by one. “Alcohol. Chloroform. Ether.”

William picked the ether up, squinting at the label. “ _Together?_ ”

John shrugged, and took the alcohol for himself. “I’ve been wanting to try something that’ll get my patients up faster. In the chair, out the chair, _boom_. It’ll be pokey, sure enough. But I thought to myself, I thought: why have just one beauty when you could have all her sisters?” He shook the bottle, and held out a handkerchief to William without saying a word.

William frowned, but took the handkerchief anyway. “Tell me, John: is this an experiment or are you looking to kill yourself?”

“That’d be good, wouldn’t it?” said John cheerily.

They went upstairs. John perched himself on the edge of his bed and William stood over him with the three bottles in hand. “Don’t take this personally, John,” he said, with perfect seriousness, “but I don’t really want to deal with your dead body.”

John rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to die. Just keep a finger on me pulse, and… hope for the best.”

“Right,” said William.

“When I wake up, ask me a couple of questions. How I’m feeling, any tingling, that sort of thing.”

“I will.”

John tilted his head back, eager. “Well, then. See you on the other side.”

Will folded the handkerchief and soaked it with a glossy glug of chloroform. The ether followed, then alcohol. “Quickly,” urged John, “before it evaporates.” Jaw set, Will grasped the back of John’s neck, clamping the handkerchief over his mouth and nose. It had to be sudden, as John had instructed, so he would take that reflexive gasp of air, and then--

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John came to with William bending over him, peering into his face. He was lying flat on his back. He felt indistinctly that his waistcoat had been unbuttoned, as had his shirt cuffs.

“How long have I been out?” he managed.

“Thirty minutes, or thereabouts. I’ve been timing it.”

“Felt like nothing at all.”

William had a pen and John’s journal open on his knee. The syrup-scented handkerchief had been draped neatly upon the bedside table. “Any odd sensations? Changes in temperature? A tingling sensation in your, er, extremities?”

John sniffed dustily and blinked. “No. Just… floating.”

“Floating,” repeated William. He jotted it down.

“I feel bloody great, actually.”

William scribbled busily again. He placed the journal on the bed, and John saw _bloody great_ printed in Will’s sensible handwriting. Will offered John a blank smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re still with us.”

John narrowed his eyes. “Have you been sniffing something while I’ve been out?”

Will’s eyes meandered over to the chloroform rag and back again. “No,” he lied, pupils hugely dilated.

The heat of the room gave Will’s skin a flushed, coital quality which John found hard to ignore. He reached up and touched Will where his collar fell open. Will went along with the examination. He studied John’s own hand, stroked the bright points of sensation on John’s wrists, ran his thumbs over the flecked scars on John’s inner elbows. “Am I to be another of your experiments?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” John replied, tired of the artifice.

“I see.” Will didn’t let him go. He didn’t seem hurt, rather he was resigned to the outcome. There was nothing else to say. Not in words, at least.

Will pulled John on top of him. John unbuttoned his trousers. A question with an answer. Simple. “I don’t even need to ask, do I?,” he breathed, hiding his mirth, a sick smile, against Will’s neck. “But don’t worry. I’ll give it to you.”

*

John squeezed Will’s bare thigh under the bedclothes. “Sober, are we? Did I finally wake you up a bit?”

William was fiddling with his engagement ring again. “Mm.”

“Am I not the most vigorous man you’ve known in London? You can’t say I didn’t show you a good time.”

“I have not _known_ men” said William offishly, prickling. He drew the covers up to his chin, glowering at John and his raised eyebrows. “Yes, John, I caught that insinuation. You’re starting to sound like Robert.”

John pillowed his head on his hands, smirking. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“But I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy your company. And your... _furor poeticus_.”

“Eh?”

Will pretended to examine the fibres of the bedclothes, his face red. “I take it you’ve found some inspiration.”

John’s eyes closed indulgently. He sucked in a breath between his teeth. “It’s bleeding marvelous, isn’t it? Well, when it happens.”

“ _Rather_ ,” William sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago but I'm only posting it now for some reason.  
> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
